Born For This
by Genesis Wolfe
Summary: 2k14Movieverse. April moves in with new roommates for her own safety at the request of Splinter and the turtles. But has she brought the danger to her new friends? RaphxApril / LeoxOC. Rated for sexual themes in future chapters.
1. Escape Route

_Author's Note: This fic is set in the 2014 film universe, set about three months after the events of the film. I obviously own Marie and Jaclyn, but no one else. Not sure where this plot is going, but there is definite RaphxApril and LeoxOC. Stay tuned!_

 **Chapter One: Escape Route**

"This can't be right…"

April O'Neil looked down to the scrap of yellow paper in her hand, hastily scribbled on and ripped from a legal pad. 693 48th Street. She looked back up at the antique shop that was supposed to be an apartment. It was closed, lights out. She looked around helplessly, then knocked on the door. "Hello?"

A moment or two passed, and she knocked again. She suddenly heard a grating sound from above, someone opening up a window on a higher floor. "Hello?" came a woman's voice.

April backed up from under the awning to see a brunette poking her head out the window on the second floor.

"Hi," she said. "My name's April, I'm here to see an apartment?"

"Oh, April, right!" the young woman said. "Come along to the side, I'll buzz you up."

April moved around the side of the building the woman had motioned to, finding a side door and pulling it open upon hearing the telltale buzz of unlocking. A flight of stairs led upwards to a single door, which opened to flood the stairwell with light that silhouetted the woman at the top of the stairs.

"Come on up," the woman said. "I'm Jaclyn."

April smiled in a friendly nature, mounting the stairs, eyes following the design painted on the walls on the way up, blue swirls forming an abstract sea of waves, broken up here and there with a pirate ship or a little waving mermaid. "Fun," she said cheerfully. Jaclyn nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Marie gets creative kicks that defy her inability to afford things like sketchbooks and canvases. She's upstairs ignoring adulthood, you'll love her."

April smirked and finished the climb. Since Taylor had moved out, she'd had to go apartment hunting. She couldn't afford the apartment on her own. Also, there were four turtles and a rat that weren't quite comfortable with her staying in her old place by herself, not when there was a chance that Sacks had gotten her address.

She followed Jaclyn, eyes widening as she stepped through the doorway. "Wow…"

It wasn't so much an apartment as a loft…an amazing loft. The entire floor plan was open, with dark wood floors and raw brick walls, accented here and there with more paintings, mostly more waves and ocean scenes. In fact, there seemed to be a lot of nautical bits here and there, a Jolly Roger hung on the wall above a well-worn leather couch.

"Yo ho," April said with a little smile.

"Ah, yeah," Jaclyn said. "We're rennies…renaissance faire regulars. That's how we met, back in Michigan, actually. And speaking of 'we'… _Marie!_ "

A bit of scuffling from overhead, and April followed Jaclyn's gaze to a steel spiral staircase going to a second floor…or rather, half of a second floor, as it seemed the bedrooms were on a landing above, leaving half of the main floor with what had to be nearly a thirty-foot ceiling. Another young woman appeared, wearing a Batman t-shirt with black leggings under cut-off shorts, her dark hair embellished with a streak of artificial silver at the temple. For all of the classic girl-next-door style Jaclyn had with her pretty coral cardigan and prettily curled brown locks, Marie balanced out with an edgier style.

"Oh, hey," Marie said, painted red lips curving into a friendly smile. "April, right?"

"Yeah," April said, reaching out a hand to shake Marie's when it was offered.

She glanced around at the amazing loft. "This place is incredible," she said in an unsure tone. "Um…I'm assuming the Craigslist ad was a mistake...it said my rent would be $300 plus utilities?"

"Nope, no mistake," Jaclyn said. "Marie's great-uncle owned this shop for years, and slowly bought out the apartments upstairs, and his son converted it into a loft."

"He didn't have any kids," Marie continued. "So he basically left the place to my family, and no one wanted to move out of the ol' Mitten, besides me. And Jac here is pretty much down for anything involving moving and traveling, so here we are, with a kick-ass loft and a shop full of antiques for pretty much nothing other than utilities and insurance. So, ta da, dirt cheap rent."

"Can I grab you something to drink?" Jac asked. "Water? Tea? Whiskey? Rum? Ecto Cooler…oh wait, no."

Marie looked pained. "Ow. Too soon."

April laughed a bit, warming up to the other women. "Tea would be awesome."

Jac went to pour a glass of iced tea for April. April smiled and took it. "So, do you guys run the shop?"

"Not yet," Marie said, hopping up on one of the mismatched barstools next to the counter, gesturing to the other one. "Still working on getting the business license in order. Until then, it's bartending and odd jobs for me. Jac's the breadwinner, with fancy stuff like 'full-time employment' and 'health insurance.'"

April looked to Jac, who shrugged and boosted herself up on the counter to sit. "Apparently social work was a more useful degree than an English one."

"Who'd've thunk?" Maria said.

"What do you do, April?" Jac asked. April paused.

"I…I'm on Channel 6 news."

Silence.

"Oh."

"You guys don't watch TV?"

"Other than fourteen-hour Netflix marathon binges, not so much."

April smiled into her tea. They didn't recognize her. That was nice. Since the turtles had saved the city, her star had been on the rise. She'd become a legitimate reporter, even recognized regularly on the street. And while she was thrilled with the new upswing in her career, finding potential roommates that view her as just April was…well…refreshing.

"Oh, come on, you probably want to see the room, right?" Marie said, hopping up from the stool. April followed suit, trailing the tall woman up the stairs to the landing.

"Your room is the smallest," Marie admitted. "But there are a couple perks."

She opened the door, revealing a modestly-sized bedroom painted a vivid green—she smirked at the shade a bit. Fitting. Marie moved to the window, unlocking it and opening it, waving a hand to April to beckon her to follow her onto the fire escape. They climbed up one more level before hitting the roof. April blinked.

"Whoa."

The entire rooftop looked like it had stepped out of a storybook. A rooftop garden full of flowers and vegetables, a roofless gazebo perfect for stargazing…it was beautiful.

"Like I said," Marie said. "Perks."

"I'll say," April said. She grinned. "You know what? I'll take it."

Marie gave her a bright smile. "Awesome!" she said. "Come on, now we need a beer to celebrate."

April laughed. "Situation calls for it."

"Begs for it."

"Demands it."

"Writes a decree for it."

Marie laughed. "I like you. You stay," she said, making her way back down the fire escape and shouting into the apartment. "Jaclyn! The new roomie requires beer!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

From a rooftop across the street, ten floors above them, a looming figure watched. He was nearly completely still, save for the flickering of bright green eyes over the windows of the place as he watched her disappear into the building. The two other women looked friendly. But who knew? Could be an act…

The longer she stayed in there, the more tense he became, his teeth practically shredding the toothpick he frequently gnawed on. She appeared again, climbing up to the roof with the taller chick, checking out the admittedly impressive garden the two women had apparently thrown together up there. She looked…happy.

He was satisfied with that. But he wouldn't leave until she did.

Just in case.


	2. Brighter

_Author's Note: As usually, I own nothing but Marie and Jaclyn._

 **Chapter Two: Brighter**

It wasn't the most glamorous trek. In fact, she usually wore her rain boots to make it, considering part of it involved sloshing through sewer water. Mikey had assured her that it wasn't _that_ kind of sewer water, but…she kept the rubber boots just in case.

It had been months now, since they'd met, yet April felt like they'd been family for a lifetime. While wary at first (with the obvious exception of Michelangelo), after everything they'd gone through together, they'd bonded in a way that she couldn't quite explain…they'd been her only friends in her awkward childhood as tiny baby turtles in glass tanks, and now they were some of her only friends, aside from maybe Vernon. And now Marie and Jaclyn.

She turned an almost unseen corner down a tunnel that she knew would take her to the lair. The tunnel hadn't existed months ago; the entrance to the lair had been further down the larger passage, but that was now destroyed when the Foot attacked the home of the turtles and Splinter. It had been her fault…she hadn't known, of course, but her heart still felt a twist of guilt.

She stepped over the debris and into what used to be an extremely impressive lab, though the machinery and technology was mostly scattered in twisted piles of useless trash, torn apart further as Donatello's expert hands scavenged for pieces that were still usable. A small space on the desk remained intact, and it now housed a laptop and some scientific supplies she couldn't quite name. And a turtle.

"Hey, Donnie," she said. No answer.

Headphones. She sighed, picked up a small rock, and threw it at his shell. He instinctively stood, drawing his bo staff and giving it a swing behind him that would have knocked her head clean off her shoulders before realizing who it was.

"April!" he said, exhaling heavily. "Don't sneak up on me like that, I could have hurt you!"

"I know," she said. "Hence the rock."

He grinned and moved to her, wrapping her in a brotherly hug. "It's been a few days," he said. "Keeping busy?"

"Apartment hunting," she said. "When I'm not working, I'm scouring Craigslist."

Donnie's nose wrinkled. "Not the most reliable source of quality living situations."

April shrugged as they moved towards the main chamber. "I don't know," she said. "I think I've struck gold."

Donnie was about to reply, when another familiar voice rang through from the dojo.

"Are we in heaven?! Because I think I hear an angel!"

April grinned brightly as the other three turtles made their way into the room, Michelangelo running over to swoop her into a spinning hug.

"April!" he said, setting her down on her feet again. "How's the apartment? Raph says it's pretty sweet digs."

There was silence as April's blue eyes swung to Raphael as his face twisted in the way it did when he knew he'd been caught.

"Oh?" she said in a light tone, though it was clear that she was slightly irritated. "That's funny, I don't remember having guests yet?"

"Just wanted to make sure it was legit," he said gruffly. Leonardo nodded.

"Can't be too careful, April," he said. "Even without the Foot being a threat, there's weirdos out there."

"Weirder than us, even," Donnie joked.

"Fine," she said. "But next time you want to be protective and mildly creepy, tell me first?" She eyed Raphael expectantly. He scowled a bit, but nodded.

"So?" Michelangelo prodded. "Apartment?"

She sighed, then smiled. "It's amazing," she said. "Huge loft above this old antique store. We should be paying thousands for it, but inheritance worked in Marie's favor—"

"We?" Michelangelo repeated. "Marie?"

"Roommates," she replied. "Marie and Jaclyn."

"Hot roommates?"

April faltered. "Well, I don't tend to notice whether other women are hot, but…yeah, sure. They're cute."

"So you're introducing us when?"

Raphael gave Michelangelo a knock to the top of the head, causing the younger turtle to wince. April sighed.

"Maybe someday," she said. "They seem…less easily spooked than my last roommate."

"No offense, April," Leonardo said. "I'm sure they're great, but I think it best if we limit our circle of human friends to two."

April gave a little smile a nodded. The turtles had risked enough in letting she and Vernon into their world; they didn't need more humans knowing of their existence before they were ready.

"Is Splinter around?" she asked. Leo nodded toward the dojo.

"Thanks," she said, giving his arm a friendly pat and moving past the four brothers toward the dojo.

The great _sensei_ was there, on his knees, eyes closed in a haze of incense smoke. She walked toward him, knowing that he would know she was there. She stopped a few feet in front of him, bowed, and knelt, facing him, closing her eyes as well.

"You seem…peaceful, my child," he said after a comfortable silence.

"I found a place to live," she said. "I like it. I feel safe and happy."

The rat smiled a little. "That is good," he said. "I do not like to see my family distressed."

She smiled. She liked when he included her as family. She'd been very….alone, since her parents had both passed away young.

"Splinter," she said in a venturing tone. "I wanted to ask you something?"

"Yes, April, what is it?"

"I was wondering…I mean, I fully trust that the guys can protect me and all that, but…I'd like to be able to protect myself to, you know?"

Splinter's eyes opened. "You wish to be trained in _Ninjutsu_?"

"Yeah," she said. She grew a bit hesitant. "Is that allowed? Or is it a boys' club sort of thing?"

"Traditionally, yes," he said. "Men have been the main students of _Ninjutsu_."

April's face fell a bit, and Splinter continued hastily.

"However, there were the _kunoichi_."

" _Kunoichi_?" she echoed.

"Women associated with those studying _Ninjutsu_ ," Splinter explained. "Not quite ninjas themselves, but highly skilled assassins, trained to be espionage agents in Japan. I assume you do not wish to assassinate, however…similar training could be to your advantage, I suppose."

"Would you be willing to teach me, Splinter?" she asked hopefully.

He was silent for a few moments, eyeing her in a way that made it clear that he would rather her be protected, than needing to protect herself. She braced herself for the no.

"I believe it is actually more appropriate to refer to me as _sensei_."

She let out a little squeak of excitement and grinned, nodding. "Can we start now?"


	3. Ignorance

_Author's Note: I own nothing but Marie and Jaclyn. Sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side; it was really just..."Here, I need this thing to happen but it feels awkward including it with the last or next chapter so here, have fifty words BOOM CHAPTER THREE." I promise future chapters will be more...um...meaty?_

 **Chapter Three: Ignorance**

"He was so beautiful I couldn't even talk. I literally lost the ability to comprehend the concept of language."

"It's true, I heard it. Or…you know, didn't hear it."

April laughed as she walked back to her apartment with her roommates, having been at a nearby pub celebrating her successful move. Granted, she was still living out of boxes, but hey, they'd gotten the boxes into the loft, and that was what mattered, right?

"How about you, Ape?" Marie said, snickering at the look on Jaclyn's face while she reminisced about the attractive male nurse at work. "Got a piece of mancandy? Or…womancandy? Genderfluidcandy? Whatevs, you do you, babe."

April snickered initially, simply because of Marie's gender inclusion, but then shook her head. "No, no mancandy. I've been…pretty career-oriented. Not a lot of time for a relationship."

"Um, who said anything about a relationship?" Jaclyn said.

"Well, that's fair," April said with a smirk.

"Got a type?" Marie said.

April paused for a moment. "I….I like green eyes?"

Marie nodded in approval, while April wondered where that had even come from.

"Blue are my weakness," Marie said, carrying on with the topic. "Tall, blue eyes, funny. Recipe for Marie disaster."

April actually stopped in her tracks, Michelangelo's face appearing in her mind.

…..nah.

"What about you, Jac?" April asked. "What's your aesthetic?"

"Hot," Marie answered for her friend. "Ripped and hot."

"That's…true," Jaclyn conceded. "I also like personality traits too, but obviously that's not the priority."

"Of course not," April said, laughing. They reached the stoop of the antique store, and she dug into her jacket pocket for the key-

And she found herself staggering back as a man walked right into her, not even attempting to move around her. She turned and gawked, as the man turned around to look at her. He glared directly at her, as if…he'd done it on purpose. As if he knew her. But she'd never seen him before…

"Hey, watch it, douchenozzle!" Marie shouted at the man, sounding like a born-and-bred New Yorker despite not being a native.

"It's okay," April said as the man turned away and continued to walk. "Just some creep."

"That's an understatement," Jaclyn said, glaring at the back of the retreating man.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The man hurried down the street, expertly weaving through the late-night walking traffic, people leaving the bars, stumbling, drunken, stupid, worthless. He was none of those. He was fast on his feet, graceful, and on a mission.

He reached the building, abandoned for all intents and purposes, but only a façade. Inside, a long hallway led to a door that only he and a few very select others had access to. He allowed the device to scan his retina, and walked through the door.

A bed was one of the only comforts in the room, the rest filled with machines, tubes, equipment that he couldn't even name. And in the bed was a man, covered in gauze, currently kept alive by the very machines surrounding him. Black eyes looked up from reddened skin, flesh twisted and devastated by what had happened to him. A man who had been broken.

But was healing.

The man moved to the side of the bed, bowing at the waist respectfully, and then knelt, face level with the scarred hand that lay on the bed.

"We have found the girl, Master Shredder."

The hand clenched into a fist.


	4. Let the Flames Begin

_Author's Note. I own zero. Well, that's not true. I own Marie and Jaclyn. Don't tell them I called them zero._

 **Chapter Four: Let the Flames Begin**

It was a warm night, with a nice breeze. The kind of summer night that wasn't meant to be enjoyed from indoors. So while Jaclyn cleaned and Marie perched at the counter, writing furiously in one of her many notebooks, April took her laptop and a cup of coffee out her window and up to the roof to enjoy the weather while researching for her next story.

She spent about a half hour actually working, then relaxed, leaning back in the chair to look up at the sky, what few stars she could see with the city lights.

"Nice night."

She jumped and practically fell out of the chair, as Raphael's massive form stepped out of the shadows. She placed a hand over her heart, willing it to stop pounding.

"God, don't _do_ that!" she said.

"Hey, you wanted me to let you know when I was checking in," he said with a shrug.

She opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. Well, he was right, after all.

At her temporary silence, that usual smirk crossed his face. She'd learned that one of his favorite things was to be right, or at least uncontested. Perhaps an effect of his relationship with Leonardo, which seemed to be a continual power struggle. Leonardo was the eldest, and most level-headed, and even April could see that he was the best option for leadership. Raphael, for all of his strength and passion, may have had what it took to lead, but he was hot-headed and impulsive; not the ideal traits in a leader. Raphael, of course, failed to see this point most of the time. And hated being told what to do.

She sighed and re-situated herself in the chair, gesturing to the bench next to her. "Wanna hang out?" she asked. "I could use a break, and you're more entertaining when you're not doing the 'I Am The Night' thing."

"I only saw it _once_ ," Raphael protested at the Batman reference, but at her amused grin, he huffed and sat next to her. She closed the laptop and set it aside, undivided attention on the massive turtle beside her, tucking her legs underneath her casually.

"So," she said. "How are renovations going?"

"Shitty," he answered gruffly. April pursed her lips; they had been hoping to reconstruct the destroyed lair, adding new entrances to ward off any potential foot soldiers, Donatello designing new alarm systems. But, the more they worked, April 's help included, the more they realized that the damage was more extensive than they'd originally thought.

"I wish you guys would have taken up my offer," she protested, not for the first time. She'd tried to convince the turtles and Splinter to come and stay in her apartment once Taylor had moved out. It would have been cramped, but not…well…a pile of rubble.

"Nah," he replied. "We don't belong up here. Not yet."

That had been his excuse. Splinter feared for her own safety, Leonardo didn't want to impose, Donatello couldn't bear to part with that much equipment, and Raphael's own distrust of society won out. Michelangelo had been the only one down to move in. Shocking.

As if sensing that she was about to argue (which, truthfully, she was), he steered the subject in another direction. "How's it going here?"

"Great," she said with a smile. "Loft's awesome, I love the girls. I wish you guys could meet them—"

The familiar buzz of the intercom distracted her, faint from where they sat. April frowned. It was kind of late—

She heard Marie's voice echo through the intercom below. "Yes?"

"I'm looking for April O'Neil?" came a man's voice.

There was a pause. "Can I ask who this is?"

"A colleague, from Channel 6."

April frowned. She didn't recognize the man's voice. She was up and moving toward the railing before Raphael could decide whether or not it was a good idea. She peeked her head over.

He wasn't a colleague. But she recognized him, nonetheless.

It was the man who'd bumped into her days ago, while she was walking home with Marie and Jaclyn.

She wasn't sure if she gasped, or moved quickly, or if he _smelled_ her, but the man looked up and spotted her, and made a sign with his gloved hand toward her.

All hell broke loose.

They appeared out of nowhere, Foot Clan thugs, as if they burst out from the shadows themselves. Swinging down from other roofs, springing out from over the ledges, nearly a dozen of them. Raphael immediately drew his sai, giving out a harsh growl as he took a step in front of April.

"Hello?" came Marie's voice. "What the hell is going on?"

" _Marie, stay inside!"_ April shouted. "Lock the windows and stay inside!"

"April?!" same a faint shout, proof that Jaclyn had overheard the shouts and the din on the roof.

Raphael had made short work of three of the Foot already, and both he and April looked over in distress as Marie and Jaclyn's faces appeared on the roof from the fire escape, though likely for different reasons.

"Why don't humans ever _listen_?" Raphael roared, taking out another soldier.

Marie and Jaclyn gaped for a split second, but their shock was postponed as a soldier ziplined from a nearby roof to the fire escape behind them. Raphael barreled toward them, and they leapt out of the way, towards April, as he threw the soldier off of the roof.

"What in the fucking fuck is going on?!" Marie yelled, face pale and blue-green eyes saucers.

"I'm so sorry, you guys," April pleaded, then yelped as she was grabbed from behind. Raphael turned at the sound like he was burned, whipping to face the women and making his way over to them.

Not that he was needed, as April twisted into an advantageous position and flipped the soldier over her back and onto the ground. While she managed to dislodge herself from his grasp, he quickly hopped back up, and was about to attack her again, pulling a ninjato from his hip—

" _Nope!_ "

-and was thwarted as a wooden patio table flew through the air, knocking him sideways and unconscious. All activity paused for a moment as all eyes swung to Jaclyn, who'd clearly just launched the table in a surge of adrenaline and ingenuity.

"Holy shit," said Marie and Raphael simultaneously. The two looked at each other in surprise, but the appearance of more Foot distracted them.

"I don't think we have enough furniture for this," Marie said, backing up towards Raphael. Big scary-looking turtle seemed to be on their side, so she clearly was perfectly happy with asking questions later.

"We need to get to the sewer," Raphael hissed, gripping his sai tightly, crouching and ready to spring.

"There's a manhole in the basement," Marie said. "Downstairs, through the shop."

"I'm sorry, _sewer_?" Jaclyn said.

"Trust me," April said, looking at Jaclyn and Marie imploringly. The girls looked at each other, then nodded.

"Go ahead," Raphael said. "I'll cover you."

The ducked past attacking Foot, scrambling down the fire escape and climbing into April's bedroom window (a feat that Raphael had a bit more trouble with than the girls, and the window frame cracked with the effort). The ran through the apartment, and Marie, leading the train, screamed as the huge windows of the living room came crashing in, Foot pouring into the loft.

"Go!" Raphael roared, turning to fend off the soldiers as the girls ran for the staircase that led to the store below.

"Watch out!"

They turned just in time to be blown back by a hot blast of flames and gas, a grenade exploding against wall of the bedrooms above them. The three women pushed themselves up from the ground, battered and covered in grime and soot from the blast, and ran down their stairs, April looking back over her shoulder to assure that Raphael was in pursuit.

They barreled through the door to the shop, the antiques and knick-knacks already ablaze from another grenade. Marie let out a pained cry at the sight, and Jaclyn pushed her forward.

"Come on, 'Rie, we have to keep going!"

April stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. She saw only flames, and almost turned to run back up, when the dark, hulking form of Raphael appeared and damn near leapt down the entire flight of stairs. " _Go!_ "

Jaclyn took the lead now, grabbing Marie by the arm and running through the smoke toward the trapdoor to the basement.

The manhole to the sewer below was there, just as Marie had promised. Raphael wedged his sai into the gap between it and the floor, wrenching it open.

"Come on!" she said. April followed suit immediately, checking down the hole and quickly hopping down after judging the falling distance was safe. Jaclyn and Marie, however, faltered.

"Are…you serious?" Jaclyn said.

"Would you rather stay here?" Raphael snapped. A well-timed grenade went off, and the two women jumped, practically falling over each other to drop down the manhole.

Raphael looked up toward the ceiling, imagining the carnage the Foot was causing above their heads. His muscles tensed, wanting to jump back into the fight…but right now, he had April and two innocent women to guide to safety.

He let out a deep snort of irritation, and dropped down after the girls.


	5. Emergency

_Author's Note: I own none of the things, which is why I am poor._

 **Chapter Five: Emergency**

Jaclyn watched as the massive—man? Turtle?—pulled the manhole cover shut once again, and barreled past the three women. It was dark, only small shafts of light from vents and manhole covers to light their way, but the turtle sprinted as if it were bright as day, and April followed trustingly. Jaclyn had her doubts, but followed, pulling Marie along until her friend ran (or, rather, blindly stumbled) alongside her.

They remained silent as they moved, stopping at Raphael's sign to listen, making sure that they were not followed. It seemed like forever, a twisting maze of tunnels, the sickeningly unseen water soaking their shoes and climbing up the leg of her jeans, but then after one last pause of silence for safety, Raphael's pace slowed.

"Why the long route?" April asked suddenly.

"To confuse 'em," the turtle replied, voice gravely and clipped in tone.

"The Foot, or my roommates?" April said, brow lofted.

He didn't reply.

"Um…we're still here," Marie said. "And…well, confused, so mission accomplished, Jolly Green."

April looked at the turtle, who curled his lip a bit at the nickname and growled, moving ahead at a more casual, easy-to-follow pace. April sighed.

"Can someone please explain what the fuck?" Marie said, falling into step with Jaclyn.

The turtle was silent.

"Our house was just bombed and you showed up," Jaclyn said, tone demanding. "The least _either_ of you could do is explain what the hell is happening."

April winced, and the turtle swung back to face them, hulking shoulders tensed. April looked to him, then back to the other two women. Jaclyn worried for a second that they were going to just keep walking again, leaving she and Marie to keep wondering what was going on.

"This is Raphael," April said, finally. "We…it's a long story."

"He's a—"

"What?" Raphael asked. "Turtle? Freak? Yeah. Astute, there, Tinkerbell."

Marie glanced down at the sparkly green top she wore as he began walking again, and scowled back up at him. "—a friend?" she finished, looking irritated at Raphael having put words in her mouth. Raphael glanced back at her, as if sizing her up, and continued. They followed.

"Yeah," April said. "He's good. Family."

Jaclyn could have sworn she saw Raph's mouth quirk upward in almost a smirk as he glanced at April, but with how dark it was, it could have been a trick.

"That was the Foot," April said. "That's who attacked us."

"The Foot?" Jaclyn said. "I thought they were were wiped out by those vigilantes you…talked…about…"

She looked at Raphael, suddenly understanding. "Ah. Vigilante."

April looked to Raphael with a proud smile. "One of four," she said.

"There are more of you?" Marie asked. Raphael nodded and stopped walking.

"Yeah."

And he knew that at least one of them wouldn't be happy.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Leonardo sat on the sofa painstakingly handcrafted by Raphael, half-watching Michelangelo play Borderlands while taking a whetstone to his katana. The younger brother was jerking around violently as if the movement aided him in his gaming, occasionally letting out choice words that earned a stern glared from Leonardo in lieu of Splinter being there to scold him, their father meditating in his room.

A small bell sounded, the tell-tale sign that someone has entered the correct code into their alarm system, and Leo glanced up, knowing that only one person outside his brothers and father knew the code. Raphael stormed in, along with April. No surprise.

Michelangelo looked up, brightening at the initial sight of their pretty, auburn-haired friend. "Hey, Angel—"

And the two ragged-looking women who followed in her.

"-….cakes?"

Leonardo was up like a rocket, and the sudden movement caused the two strangers to react instinctively, stopping short, the one with the two-toned hair laying a hand on April's shoulder as if she was her anchor to reality, the brunette blinking at him with huge, dark eyes. Raphael stepped forward, knowing that a lecture was coming.

"I had to, Leo."

"Who are these girls?" Leonardo demanded, glaring at his brother.

"My roommates," April said, speaking up to avoid the usual tension between the two eldest turtles. "The Foot attacked our apartment. It's…"

"Gone," the taller girl finished. Leonardo turned his attention back towards the girls. They were filthy, both from the sewer and from what looked like soot, perhaps? And the brunette was still staring at him, and he found himself caught in her frightened and fascinated gaze for a moment.

"Oh, man!"

Leonardo's attention turned toward Michelangelo, who'd hopped up from the busted recliner to move over to them, ignoring the girls' terror and uncertainty completely and grabbing them by the hands and pulling them to the sofa, bidding them to sit down.

"Ladies, please—April, you too, I ran out of hands—sit down, here, have some blankets, make yourselves comfortable, you want some Orange Crush? I'll get you some Orange Crush, you don't even have to pay me back for it, on the house—"

He was halfway out of the room and froze. Understandably.

Splinter stood in the doorway of his room, black eyes narrowed at the scene before him.

Raphael sprang to action. "Sensei, I had to bring them somewhere safe—"

Splinter raised a hand, and Raphael's shoulders hunched a bit, but he gave a tight bow and moved to allow his father to pass. Leonardo caught Splinter's eye, and some silent agreement crossed between them as the old master moved toward the girls. April's roommates gaped slightly, but did not faint or scream, and Leonardo felt a twinge of…respect? Gratitude?

"Are you hurt?" Splinter asked.

The women looked to each other from their spots on the sofa and then back to the rat before them.

"No," the brunette said. "Just…well…traumatized."

"And what are your names?"

"Marie Williams."

"Jaclyn Thomas."

"My roommates, Sensei," April said, moving toward him. "Our apartment was attacked by the Foot. They torched the place."

Splinter made a low noise in his throat, something between a growl and a sigh, and Leonardo watched the one named Marie duck her head, clearly overcome by the events and the loss of her home. After a moment, Splinter placed a hand gently onto her hair, stroking it gently. The girl raised her head again, eyes welling, before looking away, attempting a show of courage.

"You are safe, my child," Splinter said, voice soft. "All of you. Leonardo, tea, if you please."

Leonardo bowed, mouth tight as he glanced at Raphael, who glowered back. They weren't safe here. None of them were.

He glanced at the girls again, and met the brunette's gaze again, before heading to the kitchen to make tea as requested.


	6. Hallelujah

**Chapter Six: Hallelujah**

"Sooooo, you were created in April's dad's lab, grew up here in the sewers, and saved New York City from a horrible chemical terrorist attack three months ago?"

A nod.

"I didn't fall down yesterday, I thought that was impressive."

Marie snorted into her tea at Jaclyn's quip, then ducked her head apologetically. She looked around at the four turtles, Donatello having joined them upon coming in from his lab to investigate the hubbub. Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo. Easy enough to remember; she took art history. Matching them up to the turtle correctly would take time, though. April had it down well enough, she figured she'd be okay. She'd begun to create a mnemonic device to remember…Red Raphael, Mandarin Michelangelo, Lapis Leonardo…and then Donatello, whose name did not create a purple-based alliteration, but hey, there was only one left anyway.

"And I'm assuming our place was attacked in an attempt to lure you guys out?" she said.

"It would seem so," Splinter said with a sad nod. He reached over to lay a clawed hand over her own. "I am sorry, my child."

"We appreciate you letting us stay here," Jaclyn said. "But isn't this place pretty…um…" She glanced around at the rubble that was probably once a rather impressive lair. "…compromised?"

Leonardo nodded. "Yeah, but it's the best we've got until we can figure out somewhere else."

"Yeah," Donatello said. "Unless you know of some prime subterranean real estate, we're stuck here."

"Actually…"

All eyes turned to Jaclyn expectantly.

"I might know a place," she said. "I was reading up on the city's history, and there's actually supposed to be an old subway station from the early 1900s down around 17th…no one's been down there in decades since a tunnel collapsed from construction on 15th. But…if we can make it in?"

Michelangelo brightened. "Sweet!" he exclaimed. "Can we go check it out, _sensei?_ "

Splinter considered, then nodded.

"In the morning," he replied. "I believe the girls could use some rest."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Raphael had trouble sleeping. Always had. And now that there were three new "roommates" in the lair, he found his sense of comfort was more disturbed. Nah, that wasn't it. He wasn't uncomfortable. Just…alert.

He gave up on trying to sleep. He'd been laying there for hours, having been roused by a vivid dream where he was watching her fall again, but this time he didn't catch her.

He had to catch her.

He had the sudden need to check on her. Dreams like that had a habit of putting him on edge until he confirmed that they weren't reality. It sounded stupid. But he'd feel better knowing she was still safe and sound in the main room of the lair where the three women slept.

He moved toward the main room, stopping in his tracks at the dim light coming from it. A lamp was on that hadn't been on when he checked the sleeping girls before he retreated to his bed earlier in the night. Someone was awake.

He leaned out a bit to peek around the corner, expecting to see one of the young women sitting up, awake. But they slept, unaware that a fourth figure was among them.

Michelangelo sat on the floor, the couches and recliner taken up by the sleeping women, flipping through a comic book, next to the loveseat that Marie slept on. She shifted, and his little brother straightened a bit, looking over at her with some concern etched onto his face. She stirred, but didn't wake, letting out a little sigh as she drifted further into sleep, having found a more comfortable position. Mikey gave a little smile and looked back down to his comic.

Raphael nodded to himself, and turned back to return to their bedroom. It seemed he wasn't the only brother feeling the need to check on the women.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"This must be it."

They stopped at the end of a tunnel, a seemingly dead end due to the pile of bricks and debris blocking further progress. Jaclyn aimed her flashlight at the ceiling of the tunnel.

"There's a gap up top," she said. She glanced at Leonardo. "Give me a boost?"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded. She handed the light off to Marie for a moment, and laid a hand on his shoulder, not missing the opportunity to marvel at the creature before her. A mutant turtle…it was really amazing. Obviously turtles, but so humanoid…she wasn't sure how the mutagen had managed such a change. His skin beneath her touch was rough with scales, hard muscle beneath, and she thought, fleetingly, about the fact that he could probably break her in half if he wanted to, and something in her stomach fluttered at the thought of his strength.

He took hold of her waist, gently and carefully, perhaps too carefully, and gave her a lift to stand on top of his shoulders, making sure to avert his eyes from her rear end as it passed his line of sight…a gesture that Marie didn't miss, and she smirked a little. Jaclyn made a motion to her, and she tossed the flashlight back up to her friend, who peered through the gap.

"I think we found it!" she said. She pointed the light upwards. "The pile isn't supporting anything, we should be safe to clear it out."

Leonardo lowered her gently to the ground, and April pulled her hair up out of her face into a ponytail. Raphael gave her a look.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said in a slightly teasing voice.

She frowned, lips pouting out a bit. "Helping?" she said, reaching out a grabbing a concrete block and tossing it behind her.

"I think we can handle this one, O'Neil," he said, amused.

"Are you going to stop me?" she asked. The looked she gave him made the smirk fade away, a 'dare you' look that somehow made the turtle, easily three or four times her size, back down, moving out of the way so she could continue. Marie and Jaclyn followed suit, setting up their lights to illuminate the work as the four turtles and three humans worked at clearing out the blockage.

"So," Michelangelo said to Marie, tossing a boulder over his shoulder like it was a beachball. "What do you do for fun?"

She shoved her bangs out of her eyes and looked over to him, her forehead streaked with grime from their efforts. "Oh, you know, run around in sewers, excavate subway cave-ins, the usual."

"Me too!"

She grinned at him.

"Marie's a big ol' nerd," Jaclyn said. "Well, we both are, but Marie makes a pretend career out of it."

"Yeah," April said. "She writes for some comic website…WonderGeek or something?"

"SuperNerd," Marie corrected. The turtles all stopped, and the girls blinked in confusion.

"Wait," Donatello said. "Are you MegaMarie?"

"Um….yes?"

Michelangelo looked starstruck, and Donatello began talking a mile a minute.

"Your article about the sociological hierarchy of the Justice League was brilliant!" he said. "The psychological and historical take you have on comic lore is very impressive!"

Michelangelo got down on one knee. "Marry me."

Marie blinked, glancing at Raphael and Leonardo questioningly.

"Uh," Leonardo said. "We…don't get out much."

"Ah."

The conversation turned towards a debate over whether Wolverine or Superman would win a one-on-one battle in which both Raphael and Marie grew rather hostile toward both Leonardo and April, and Jaclyn and Donatello found themselves playing referee while Michelangelo planned he and Marie's wedding out loud.

"And then, instead of cutting a cake, we'll cut a twelve-tier deep-dish pizza, but we're not gonna smash it in eachothers' faces because that's a waste of good pizza and I can't wife a woman that doesn't respect the pie and oh hey we made it through—"

The hole in the rubble was big enough for all of them to crawl through, so Michelangelo led the way through. Jaclyn shone her light around, locating a fusebox. "Over here!"

Donatello crossed over, cracked his knuckles, and pulled the cobweb-covered lever. The chamber lit up, and there was a collective gasp.

"Wow…" April said, looking around. The old station was enormous, and much more ornately decorated than those currently in use, the walls and columns carved and painted in the turn-of-the-century style it was built in. Three old subway cars were still on the track, providing something akin to actual rooms.

"Holy shit, Jac," Raphael said. "This is awesome."

Jaclyn smiled a bit. "Guess my overly-scholarly-ness paid off," she said. "And it looks like no one's been down here for years…decades, even."

She looked to Leonardo, raising a brow at him. "So, fearless leader, what do you think?"

He looked around, then nodded and grinned.

"Home sweet home."


	7. Where The Lines Overlap

_Author's Note: I own nothing but Marie and Jaclyn._

 **Chapter Seven: Where the Lines Overlap**

"Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep."

"No."

"Beep beep beep beep."

"Oh, you dicks!"

" _BeepbeepbeepbeepbeepCRASH."_

" _WHO DID IT? WHO HAD THE BLUE SHELL?!"_

"EAT EXHAUST, PRINCESS PEACH!"

Marie tossed her controller into the air as she lost the race to Michelangelo, Jaclyn and April's cars coming in second and third. Marie, losing all interest in life, slumped to the floor, laying down on the rug.

"You're the worst," she moaned into the shag. "None of us are friends anymore."

"Okay, that's fine," April said. "But you're player one, so you need to hit A and start the next race."

Marie recovered enough to feebly reach over to her abandoned controller and press A, and Jaclyn stretched a stood up. "Grabbing a drink, anyone need anything?"

"Orange Crush."

"Surprise," April said.

Jaclyn smirked and made her way to the kitchen. As she bent down to grab sodas from the mini-fridge, she heard someone follow her in, stop in their tracks for a split-second, and then continue walking in, slightly slower. She grabbed the cans and straightened back up, seeing Leonardo setting a stack of boxes on the table.

"Hey," she said with a smile. He offered her a slight smile back and a polite nod.

"How are you girls holding up?" he asked, reaching around her for a bottle of water. She could have moved to give him more room. But didn't.

"We're…okay, all things considered," she said. "We're gonna have to all go back to work though. Three days of calling in sick is going to cost our jobs."

He paused in opening the boxes for a moment, then began pulling out pots and pans to put away. The last of the turtles' and Splinter's belongings had been moved, and Michelangelo stayed behind with the women while his brothers brought over the last few boxes.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he said. "The Foot's out there looking for us, and April, and if they've seen you and Marie, you're on their list, too."

Jaclyn put down the sodas to help him, holding her hands out to take a stack of plates from him. His huge hands practically enveloped the plates, and her fingers brushed over the scaly skin and he swallowed, moving quickly to grab the next item from the box. She smirked a little to herself and she placed the plates on the shelves Raphael had constructed.

"Fair point," she said. "But I didn't spend thousands of dollars on a Master's Degree to lose my job just because one little criminal organization is after me."

He glanced over at her, seeming to size her up, and she busied herself with opening another box and beginning to pull out the groceries they'd brought over from the old lair. He finished emptying the first box and turned to face her.

"Fine," he said. "But, you don't go out alone. If you leave the lair, at least one of us trails you to make sure you get to and from work."

She paused, dark eyes narrowed slightly.

"Or you stay in the lair," he finished, sensing an argument. Her jaw set, causing her lips to pout out a little, and his gaze flickered to her mouth for a second before moving back to her eyes. "It's one or the other, Jaclyn, take your pick."

There was a brief moment of silence, eyes locked and hardened with stubbornness, even as she took notice that he was the only turtle that called her Jaclyn instead of Jac, and that she found herself liking it.

"Fine," she said. His face relaxed slightly, clearly at peace with once again being in charge, in control of the situation. Well, she certainly couldn't let him get _too_ comfortable, now, could she?

"I like when you get all demand-y," she said, reaching around him to grab the six-pack of sodas she'd fished out of the fridge.

She left him blinking in the kitchen, grinning as she tossed the sodas to her fellow players.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

April had stored some things in the lair, a few changes of clothes, in case she stayed the night below after a late training session (or, more often, movie marathon with the boys). Her roommates were not so lucky, and after spending the third day holing up in the bathroom and washing their clothes, sitting wrapped in towels while the clothing dried under the turtles' basking lamps, womanly complaints won out, and Raphael agreed to escort the girls back to the loft to salvage what they could.

April was pulling her hair back into a ponytail in the tunnel when Raphael approached.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, girls will be here in a second," she replied. She glanced at him. "How are you doing? You know…with the estrogen invasion."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "'S'different," he said. She raised a brow at him. "Tink's okay. Keeps Mikey out of trouble. Jac keeps telling me to color and I might lock her in a cupboard."

April snorted. Jaclyn, with her experience with mental health facilities, had taken to trying to redirect Raph's short temper into healthier coping techniques, coloring being her favorite because it seemed to pique his irritation.

Jaclyn may have been a bit of an instigator when she got bored.

She looked to Raphael, who was re-wrapping his wrist. She'd found herself having a strong bond with him; a feat, considering he was certainly the most gruff and withdrawn of the four brothers. Immediately after the attack on New York, she'd spent a lot of time with Raphael, almost a survivor's bond, having been there with him through all of it. But in the last month or so, he'd gotten a bit distant again, managing to be out patrolling when she would come over, even less talkative than usual.

And, while she tried to take it in stride, tried to listen to his brothers' insistence that he was just in one of his moods, she couldn't help but feel not only hurt, but…disappointed.

She licked her lips nervously, and moved forward, placing a hand gently on his bicep to get his attention.

"Hey," she said quietly, in case anyone was approaching. "You and I…we're good, right?"

His vivid green eyes flickered to her hand where it touched his scaly skin, then back to her face, looking very much like he was at war with himself.

"Yeah," he said finally. "'Course we are."

She gave him a narrowed look, one that made him let out a little growl of frustration that would probably have been followed by an argument, but his eyes glanced over her head and he stopped short, taking a step away from her. "Ready?"

"Yeah," said Jaclyn from behind April, she and Marie both carrying backpacks that Donatello had scrounged up for them to salvage things from their apartment. Jaclyn glanced at April, and at Raphael, who was avoiding the gaze of pretty much everyone, and flashed a look at Marie, who drew a little heart with her index fingers and snickered. Jaclyn couldn't tell if she was kidding or not.

They stayed below ground, following the same pipes and tunnels that had taken them to the original lair back to the manhole in the basement of the antique shop. It wasn't a long trek, but for Raphael it seemed to go on for eternity. Mostly due to Marie trying to play roadtrip games.

"I spy with my little eye, something…barely visible to the human eye."

"Is it everything?"

"Damn."

April smirked, and Raphael groaned, then suddenly stopped upon reaching the manhole. Marie, who was closely trailing him, was distracting, and ended up with a face full of graffiti'd shell.

"I spy with my little eyeJESUS CHRIST, JOLLY GREEN, BRAKE LIGHTS FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

Raphael gave a little jerk of his head upwards. "We're here."

Marie took a deep breath, looking at the manhole cover and nodding. Raphael raised his massive arms over his head and pushed the cover out of the way. April held her breath, waiting for a ton of soot to rain down on his head, but it never came.

"Looks like the fire didn't get to the basement," Jaclyn said, peering up. Marie let out an audible sigh of relief. If the basement was intact, perhaps the damage wasn't as bad as they feared?

Raphael gave them a boost, and April dusted off her hands, looking around. Sunlight poured in from some of the ceiling-level, dingy windows, enough to illuminate the basement. There were boxes everywhere, filled with antiques that didn't fit onto the shelves of the store above. Marie had explained that her uncle had been a bit of a hoarder, collecting more than he would ever sell, and it showed.

Marie moved to the stairwell and her youthful face fell, shoulders slumping. April followed suit, face reflecting Marie's crestfallen expression.

"Shit…"

The door at the top of the stairs was open, and she could see sky when she should not have seen sky. The top of the stairs was black, burned and damaged, so they couldn't move upwards to detect the damage even if they wanted to.

The loft and store were gone.

"Marie, I'm sorry," April said.

Marie sniffed a bit, straightening up and playing calm in the face of the obvious emotions she was feeling. "It was your place, too."

"Yeah, but…sorry."

Raphael glanced up the stairs, then at the boxes. "What are all these?" he asked, nodding toward them.

"Extra stuff," Marie said. "That's as detailed as I can get, never had a chance to really go through them, I'd just barely catalogued what was upstairs…"

"Well," Jaclyn said, rolling up her sleeves. "No time like the present."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Well," Jaclyn said. "This was more or less…um…eye-opening."

They'd organized the contents into piles. Garbage. Donate. Keep for the girls. Keep for the boys. Never speak of again.

The last one came from a box of vintage personal massagers that Raphael had had the misfortune of discovering. His green eyes had bulged, and he silently thrust them into April's arms and moved to the next box, leaving April giggling with an armful of sex toys that may have been older than her.

There were some clothes, mostly vintage, that worked well enough for now. Marie had found a leather jacket that was a relic of the 80s punk era, riddled with studs and safety pins, that she'd claimed immediately, Jaclyn had a new arsenal of dresses that would make a hippie jealous, and April…well, April didn't have as much luck; the best she'd found was an entire case of God-awful yellow jumpsuits that must have been some kind of clearance from a store in the early nineties or something.

While Marie moved to open the last mystery box, the other three were busy bagging up the items they were taking back to the lair. Some vintage video games for Michelangel, a ton of vintage computer equipment for Donatello to tinker with, some books for Splinter. Jaclyn had found an old turntable and some classic rock vinyls that she insisted Leonardo would like.

"He doesn't listen to that stuff," Raphael said. She shrugged, and packed it up anyhow.

Meanwhile, Marie opened the last box, and a smile crossed her face.

"So," she said, raising a brow. "I found us some entertainment for the night."


	8. Teenagers

_Author's Note: I own nothing but Marie and Jaclyn._

 **Chapter 8: Teenagers**

"I don't think so."

Jaclyn's face fell into something between an annoyed scowl and an indignant pout. She was tempted to argue, but Marie got there first.

"It's just tobacco," she said, reaching into box to pull out one of the little tin canisters. "Totally leg—"

She paused, glancing over the four massive turtles before her. "Wait, how old are you guys?"

"Nineteen," Michelangelo piped up, straightening a big to appear taller and, she imagined, older by default. Not that he had to; he, even as the shortest of the brothers, was still at least six feet tall, a good few inches taller than Marie.

"Totally legal!" she finished with a grin.

Leonardo shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not," he said. "You two should know better than to bring that stuff in here."

Marie's grin fell slightly, and Jaclyn grasped for straws, bringing out the secret weapon.

"But it's traditional ritual!"

A browridge raised over bright blue eyes.

Marie glanced at her friend, catching on. "She's right!" she agreed. "Smoking the hookah is a traditional practice in Middle Eastern cultures, a way to bond as comrades and friends."

"It goes back hundreds of years," Jac said. She let her head drop a bit, looking disappointed. "We just thought it would be nice for all of us, you know, new-found family and all."

Leonardo's lips tightened, considering but still opposed. Marie and Jac glanced past him at the others. Michelangelo was clearly excited to try something new, Donatello was notably curious, and Raphael and April had their eyes fixed on Leonardo, seemingly more interested in his reaction than the contents of the box Jaclyn held.

"I don't think-"

"Is that a hookah?"

The room turned to see Splinter peeking through one of the newly-scrubbed windows of the old subway car, his shining black eyes bright even in the dim lighting of the lair.

"Yes?" Jaclyn said slowly, trying to pre-guage the patriarch's upcoming response.

His eyes crinkled. It was the easiest way to know he was smiling, since his rat's jaw made it difficult to see the curve of his mouth most of the time.

"I have always wanted to try hookah," he mused. Jaclyn's gaze went back to Leonardo, and she smiled triumphantly.

Marie grinned and skipped past him. "Come on, team, we need every pillow and cushion in the lair, stat!"

He remembered Donatello telling him about drugs. Leonardo was pretty adamant that none of them touch the stuff, even though Michelangelo wasn't sure exactly how he'd get his hands on any anyway. But Donatello had looked them up, telling Mikey about a few and their effects, how they'd feel at the time and their consequences.

The hookah didn't make him see things, didn't make him all slow and unable to function. But it smelled good and gave his head a little bit of comfortable fuzzing and made his body a little more relaxed.

As relaxed as it could be, with Marie's hair brushing his propped-up leg every time she turned her head.

The pipe had passed him again, and as Donatello took the pipe, once again inspecting it with vague interested as he rifled through the different flavors of tobacco in the box, Michelangelo let his eyes wander over the group. They mostly sat on the floor on the pile of cushions he, Marie, and April had gathered around the low coffee table they'd fashioned from an old wooden door and some cinder blocks. He had settled into a beanbag, Marie sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, leaning back against his outstretched legs occasionally to recline a bit. Leonardo, Jaclyn, and Splinter all set facing the table, noble and official-looking, both enjoying the activity and observing it as a ritual a bit more than as a time to relax. Donatello had pulled up a chair, seemingly to get a better view of the simple yet mesmerizing workings of the ornate glass pipe on the table. And April and Raphael sat on opposite sides of himself, looking almost a bit...awkward. Weird.

He looked at the women in their company, all fairly different in looks and style. April. April looked like any bombshell you'd see in those magazines he'd found in Raphael's hammock years ago. Slim, stunningly gorgeous, long shining hair and full lips and blue eyes. Movie star beautiful. The kind of girl that got harassed on the streets a lot, according to Raphael, who spent a lot of time trailing their human friend to make sure nothing shady went down.

Jaclyn looked like the girl next door, with her natural, pretty features, smokey eyes, and a more bohemian, modestly flirty style. She and Marie were both bigger than April, to be sure, but that was just fine to Michelangelo; there was a certain charm to the curves they had that April didn't.

But Marie. Where Jaclyn was natural, Marie was edge. Thick black hair streaked with unnatural silver, and bright red lips ever-present, she was obviously looking to grab attention more than look pretty. But she _was_ pretty, Michelangelo decided. Her eyes were a shade somewhere between blue and green, and they almost disappeared when she smiled, crinkling at the corners. She laughed a lot. He liked to make her laugh. He was good at it. Once when he made her laugh, she placed her hand on his bicep as her other arm wrapped over her stomach in her fit of giggling, and he felt a heat flush into his face at the touch. That was his goal. To make her laugh and touch his arm again.

He was starting to pay more attention to Marie than to Jaclyn, even to April. But they didn't seem to mind. He even saw April sneak glances over at them when he was making Marie laugh, and April smiled. She didn't seem sad or upset. April was a good friend.

Marie was shaking her head at something Jaclyn was saying, and her thick, dark ponytail brushed the side of his knee again, catching his attention. It looked soft, and he started fidgeting with the sunglasses looped over his necklace to distract him from the urge to reach out and touch it.

"So, let me get this straight," Donatello was saying. "You aren't thrown off by the time travel, but this, _this_ , you're drawing a hard line at?"

"Yes," Jaclyn exclaimed, tossing her hands up in exasperation. "There is no way that they would be able to communicate! Those people wouldn't speak Modern English! It'd be some old dialect of French."

"Even if it was English," Marie piped up. "It'd be completely unrecognizable at that time. Even Shakespearean pronunciation, which is fairly recent is difficult for untrained listeners, let alone hundreds of years before that. Their English would pre-date Chaucer."

The turtles blinked at her. She shrugged. "I studied historical linguistics in college."

"But, the fact of the matter still stands," Donatello argued. "The fact that you find this more unbelievable than the concept of _time travel_ -"

"But the point of the movie _was_ time travel," Jaclyn interrupted. "You're meant to suspend belief as far as that goes because it's the whole point of the movie. A complete disregard for historical integrity is completely different!"

Brown eyes flashed toward Marie from behind thick glasses. The woman shrugged, reaching to take the pipe from Leonardo's outstretched hand. "Welcome to living with Jac," she said simply, taking in a long drag from the pipe and letting the white smoke swirl slowly out from between her red lips.

The friendly debate continued for a while, until Donatello conceded to the fact that the potential of time travel was, in fact, more feasible, in theory, than pre-medieval Europeans knowing modern English. Jaclyn looked rather pleased with herself.

"So," Marie said, straightening up and leaning forward towards Splinter. Michelangelo missed the brush of her hair instantly. "Tell us a story about these guys when they were kids. I'm dying to hear all about it."

Splinter's eyes crinkled, and three of the four brothers collectively groaned. All except Michelangelo; he had no shame, and it took a lot to embarrass him.

"Well," Splinter said, bringing a clawed hand up to stroke at his goatee. "There was the time with the duckie blanket…"

This time, a louder groaning, and Raphael and Leonardo both were up like shots.

"I gotta go lift-"

"I left something outside-"

"TELL US EVERYTHING," came the ecstatic cry from April as the three girls scooted closer to the rat, Michelangelo joining them, and Donatello chuckled at the retreating backs of his brothers as his father recounted the Epic Battle of Duckie Blankie to his captive audience.

Michelangelo slipped from his room as he had the past few nights, to go and check on the girls. They had their own room now, a larger room in the subway terminal that appeared to have been a convenience or gift shop, cleared out to give the women more privacy, a space to call their own, since they were effectively "homeless" now. He didn't like to think of them that way. He liked to think this was their home, now, but there was an air of sad temporariness to the situation. Like they were just biding time until they could live up top again. He didn't really like to think about that. He liked having them around. They were fun, and pretty, and smelled way better than his brothers, and they never made fun of him like his brothers did. He didn't mind the picking from his brothers, not really, but it was nice to have someone who, you know...didn't.

He stopped short in his quiet creeping when he saw the light, his eyes quickly adjusting. It was Marie, sitting on the cold concrete floor next to the wall of the station near a grate, her face eerily illuminated by the screen of the laptop Donatello had lent her to continue her writing work. He made a quiet scrape with his foot deliberately, a soft sound to alert her of his presence without startling her. She looked up at him, face fresh and washed, the usual winged eyeliner and cherry red lips absent. She looked even younger bare-faced, when she hardly looked her 28 years all dolled up. She broke into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Hey Mikey," she said, voice hushed and friendly. He returned her smile and sat down next to her upon seeing her pat the floor in invitation.

"Whatcha doin', kitten?" he asked. "There's gotta be more comfortable places to hang out."

"I know," she said. She laid a hand over the grate and held a finger to her lips to shush him and bid him to listen. There was water running below them, echoing up through the grate.

"The sound of water helps me clear my head," she said. "This is as close as I can get for now."

She shut the laptop, and he held his hands up, "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bug ya, I can go-"

"It's okay," she said. "I gave up on finishing the article about twenty minutes ago. I was playing Rift." She grinned sheepishly.

His eyes flickered over to the grate again. "Water, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, setting the laptop on the floor in front of her, well away from the grate. "I grew up in the country in Michigan, right next to a creek that we used to play in all the time. And my family used to go to this lake every summer and stay there for a week, a whole week of nothing but relaxing and being happy and irresponsible…"

She looked dreamy for a moment, gaze unfocused, and then her face dropped a little. "I used to drag Jac to the beach all the time," she said. "Coney Island, sit on the boardwalk, just dangle our feet and watch the ocean, listen to the waves. It was good for us, little taste of living on the lakeshore at home."

She looked a little sad, and it made him restless. He didn't handle sadness well. He wasn't a comforter, he was a….happier. He glanced in the direction of the girls' room, and his and his brothers', and Splinter's.

"Wanna go?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Go?"

"Coney Island," he said. "It's dark, we can keep to the rooftops, get you some of that wave therapy, girl."

That smile was creeping back over her features, that fun-loving, adventurous, slightly mischievous smile she got sometimes. She looked to the bedrooms, then back to him.

"Okay."

Okay, he had to admit, it wasn't an easy journey to make. He could lift and carry her no problem; he may not have been as strong as Raphael, but his mutant genes made him far stronger than a typical human and carrying an extra couple pounds was no big deal.

But going the roof route meant that he had to have his hands free, and, well, Marie's upper body strength wasn't the best. There was a lot of stopping and repositioning, resting, and a lot of squawks of terror from the ponytailed girl clinging to his shell like an oiled-up barnacle every time he made a big jump or landed a bit harder than she liked. He wasn't sure how they did it in the movies, with the damsel in distress who seemed to have even less muscle than Marie holding onto their swinging, leaping heroes without so much as a slip. Movie magic, man.

They made it to Coney Island much faster than she probably ever had by taxi, since they could avoid traffic and one-way streets...well, streets, period, by the way the crow flies. He landed on the lower rooftop overlooking the peninsula, most of the lights off at this time of night, not the bustling hub of amusement it was during day and twilight hours.

She slid off his shell with a not-all-that-graceful slump, stretching out her aching arms, flexing her fingers to get some circulation back.

"Man, that was rough," she complained. "I did a push-up a month ago and everything. What was the point?"

He smirked and gestured toward the view. "Your water, m'lady."

She made her way past him, eyes wide and jaw slacked. They could see for miles here, still quite a few stories up, and the breeze here was warm and salted, none of the touch of the city having tainted it with that smell that was just so _New York_. Her eyes danced over the water, the parks, the buildings of Coney Island, and she suddenly grinned, raising an arm to point towards the peninsula. He followed her gaze and laughed a little.

"Hop on, babe!"

Everything was closed in the park, but a little bit of brute strength from him and a tight squeeze from her, and they had popcorn and cotton candy and sodas from a concession stand (she'd left cash on the corner, citing "Catholic guilt"), and she made a grandiose effort in holding all of it as she clung to his shell while he scaled the massive metal structure.

"You good, cupcake?"

"Mmmffnnn," came the reply from around the twisted tie-offs of the cotton candy and popcorn bags. It sounded positive, so he continued.

When he got to the top, he stopped, giving her a little boost to climb over his shoulder so she could get comfortable and also take the bags out of her mouth (that had to be a choking hazard or something) before he climbed in. The car swung and creaked a bit, making him freeze, wide-eyed. He alone was easily a few hundred pounds, plus her weight...was it safe?

The car settled, and they both let out a little breath. She had sat down on the seat, and smiled up at him, scooting over to make room. Not much room. They hadn't thought this through, really, hadn't taken into account his size. But he sat down anyway, and she shifted, turning and twisting, unable to find a comfortable way to sit. He swallowed roughly, and made the bold move of reaching down, grabbing her by the calves gently, and swinging them over his lap, laying them across his lower thighs and becoming a turtle chaise for her, being careful to keep her legs at a decent distance from...um...things. She twisted with his movement, not pulling away, and found herself in a much more comfortable position in the long run, so she stayed there, casually draped over him, nestled between him and the side of the car against her back.

"Pick your poison," she said, holding up the bags of snacks. "I apologize in advance for the slobber."

He shrugged and plucked the bag of cotton candy from her fingers, tearing it open without much thought of just taking off the twist-tie. She grinned and reached for one of the the bottles of soda, looking out over the view. The ferris wheel was at the furthest point of the park, and there wasn't much past it before the edge of Coney Island, and from up here it just looked like they were suspended over the ocean. He watched her, shoving a handful of the flossy sweet into his mouth and offering the bag to her, and smiling happily as she did the same.

"This is really awesome," she said. "Thank you, Mikey."

"Don't mention it," he said, mouth full. "So, what was it like? Living out in the country?"

She tilted her head at him a little, as if amused by the question. "You've never been out of the city?"

She stopped, like she immediately regretted asking it. "Oh," she said. "You haven't, have you?" He shook his head. She looked sad, pitying, and he didn't like it. She shook her head, and the sadness was gone.

"It's pretty," she said. "Not like, _this_ kind of pretty." She swept an arm out towards the ocean, the blinking of lights from the city in their peripheral.

"Where I grew up, there weren't any skyscrapers," she said. "The biggest building in my hometown is the three-story courthouse. Our main street is made of red brick, really old-school. And I lived outside the town growing up. Redneck family; I grew up catching crayfish and frogs in the creek with my bare hands, ran around barefoot, I spent my whole life outside. I had a dog…"

She trailed off, then raised her blue-green eyes, only the shine of them visible in the dim light, up to the sky above them, where only one star shone, the moon a sharp slice of silver. "And the sky," she said. "You can see everything. Millions of stars. You can see the Milky Way sometimes. I used to lay out stargazing all the time. There aren't any big city lights, you can see everything. We would count the shooting stars…"

"Wow," he said breathlessly, now looking up as well at the sad excuse for stargazing he'd been stuck with for his whole life. "I wish I could see that."

She looked back at him, giving him a little smile. "Maybe you will," she said. "Maybe someday we'll get so good at sneaking out that we can do it earlier and we'll find a car and drive out of town. Drive north...as close to Michigan nature as possible."

He grinned. "Planning our second date already, dollface?"

"Second-?" she said, her ponytail bouncing with the snap of her head towards him. She seemed about to contest it, but didn't. She was probably just avoiding a debate on it. He just took it as acceptance.

He asked about the dog. Her name was Dusty, she was a gift when Marie was five. She asked about his pets; he'd had a baby alligator hidden in his room for weeks until one night it bit the tip of Raphael's tail when he was sleeping and he had to get rid of it. She laughed at that.

He liked making her laugh.

They finished the snacks and sodas well before they finished talking. The sky was beginning to turn that dusty violet of impending dawn, and she blinked in surprise.

"Oh!" she cried out. "Mikey, we've gotta get back, it'll be daylight soon!"

He sighed. "Oh. Yeah."

She tilted her head at him again, a little crease appearing between her brows. It happened when she was concerned, or sad, he noticed. A telltale crease. Then it smoothed into non-existance as she smiled.

"I have to work the next few nights," she said. "But...I'm free Mondays. Same time next week?"

The grin didn't leave his face the entire trip back to the lair.

It was difficult, maintaining dignity with a body so broken.

Even so, the men bowed deeply to him as he passed them slowly, as straight-backed as possible with the assistance of the cane. The petite figure waiting for him at the control panel bowed as well. She was small, but fierce. A survivor, like himself.

"What is the progress?" he asked in Japanese, his voice a grating hiss.

"There is little," Karai responded. "Our scientists struggle still. However, we received this, and it is why I insisted you hear it, Master."

She pressed a button on the console, and a fuzzy radio signal filled the room, garbled. At first it sounded like gibberish, as if someone were skipping through radio stations. And then he realized that it wasn't multiple stations. It was one voice. One voice seeming to flip through a catalog of languages both mildly familiar and completely alien.

And suddenly, in a strange, choked-sounding voice, in English, for only a second.

" _We come. The Krang come."_


End file.
